Saturday, November 29, 2008

In my genetic family, we don't generally get much hair 'til, say, kindergarten, so the first haircut is usually something that occurs in grade school. Witness my nephew at his 2nd birthday party (he's never had a haircut, except for my sister snipping off his rat tail every so often).And here I am at three months, bald as an egg.

Jo, on the other hand, has been a hairy little creature since birth (he's four days old in the picture below). Co has trimmed his hair several times already. His first birthday is coming up, so we decided to go professional this weekend.

Here are the before shots, from Thanksgiving:

And the back:

Here he is all ready for his haircut, in his Fire Chief seat:

The place had every manner of kiddie distraction: toys, TV screens, balloons, you name it. Here he is being distracted by bubbles (and sporting the adorable smock):

The mid-cut mohawk:

The artist at work:

And here's the "After" shot, at home with his hard-won balloon from the salon:

We got a first-haircut certificate with a lock of his hair. The standard "Certificate of Recognition" template included a quote by John F. Kenn.edy ("One person can make a difference") and while I'm not sure the occasion warrants it, it's certainly emblematic of the era of hope and change Jo gets to grow up in. Short hair and all.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

So I signed myself up for hd's online writing group, The Word People. I have always wanted to be a part of a writer's group. My mother is a professional writer (a journalist) and I grew up surrounded by the smart, funny, ambitious, and successful women in her writer's group. I always hoped I'd be part of one someday.

Writing has always been a part of my life, since long before I learned the physical act of writing. I imitated my mother by scrawling on message pads, and typing on the table. The hum and ding! of her electric typewriter were the soundtrack of my childhood. But more importantly, I spun stories in my head, an activity I called "pretend games." I spent hours outside bouncing a pink Spal.deen making up my stories. Eventually I learned to write them down, but even now, my brain moves so much more quickly than my hands. (And my hands move pretty quickly, as anyone who has heard me type can attest.) I still keep spiral notebooks on a shelf in our bedroom, one for each "story idea," some of those ideas with their roots as far back as the sixth grade. At this point in my life, I don't know that I will ever publish the fiction I write. Technically I am a published writer of some minor non-fiction work. But my heart is with my stories, and I will always write them.

I started keeping a diary when I was ten, as a place to offload my anxiety about my increasingly powerful, and increasingly numerous, crushes on girls. The following year my English teacher assigned journal entries, and I've been carrying around a battered composition book ever since. At different times I've also kept a dream journal,a book journal, and briefly in the 8th grade I had a special notebook just to write about all the spirits my friends and I contacted with our all-powerful Oui.ja board.

I started this blog not as writing practice, but as a way to join the TTC blog community. I was excited to engage with so many interesting and intelligent women who were on the same path Co and I were just beginning. But I can't deny that I love, love, loved the medium. I was excited about a blogging community not only because I could participate while sitting on my ass (though I can hardly say that's not a plus), but because writing is my preferred mode of communication. Given the choice, I would probably always prefer to interact with people in writing. I am much more facile at the written word than at human interaction, I think.

I'm not making a strict writing plan, because I really don't have time. I know that's a lame excuse but the working mom thing is kicking my butt and writing isn't the only thing that's taking the back burner. I want to do yoga at least a few times a week, and that isn't happening either. However, I do have these pockets of time -- on Wednesdays, when I have a number of free periods at work -- sometimes on Tuesday afternoons when I have no extracurricular activities -- sometimes over the weekend when the baby is sleeping. So my goal is to fill at least some of those pockets with writing.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Today's jubilation has been tempered for us queers (and fellow travelers) by the bad news from California, Arizona, and Florida. Let's hope change comes for us, too. I can't help but be a bit hopeful, because in our state, the Senate got the Democratic majority They say is necessary for discussion of marriage in the Legislature.

You've heard from both Co and myself about this election, and even seen Jo's hearty support for Obama. Maggie's been silent on that point, however...until now.

Last night President-elect Obama (oh, I just love typing that!!!) announced an important aspect of his administration that I, for one, was not previously aware of: the introduction of the White House Puppy. I learned today that the pup will be a rescue dog.

Maggie says it's high time we had a First Dachshund in this country. (You can click here to weigh in on the topic yourself.) Doxies are loyal, persistent, "Yes, we can!" sorts of doggies. And they love children. What other pet would put up with this:

Monday, November 03, 2008

I have this urgent desire to just pause the world right now. Right where we are. Where the guys singing in the train beg us to vote, and everyone is reading newspapers, even the free ones, even the trashy ones, with big pictures of Obama on the cover. And everyone seems so breathless with hope.

I've been getting literally tearful at the thought of Obama winning, when I think of him being Jo's president. My students' president. And I figured it was because I was sloppy and let my meds run out again. I always get a little overwrought and emotional after a few doses. But I've been back on the happy pills for several days and I'm still getting tearful. It turns out, I actually feel that emotional about this election.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

For his first Halloween, we decided to dress Jo as a lion, because he sometimes roars for us. (Of course, he refused to roar when dressed in his lion costume, but no surprise there.)

Here he is dressed up for our neighborhood parade:

He very quickly became overstimulated by all the people, lights, and noise, however, and checked out. We call this picture The Lion Sleeps Tonight.

That afternoon, Co and I decided we wanted to dress up with him, so we threw together a tiger costume for her, a Dorothy costume for me, and brought along a stuffed bear. Get it?? The concept wasn't half bad, especially given the 15 minutes of planning.

Finally, I am excited to introduce Jo's first fridge art!! The 2 1/2 year old twins at daycare did some Halloween projects, and he likes to imitate the big kids do, so his teacher held his hand while he played with a crayon and feathers, and now we have this:

Hopefully he'll be a more active participant next Halloween, or perhaps even by Purim.

So, Monday was my birthday. I'm 34. (Thanks to the working mom status, I've been working on this post since Monday.)

It's my first birthday as a mama, and that has been magical. I got to take my little guy to music class, and he gave me a present! He chose a pair of turtle socks just for me on his trip to the aquarium last week! (I spent a night away on a camping trip with my students, and Co was home with him for two days, so they went on an adventure. He also chose a stuffed shark for himself. He is truly Mommy's son.)

I'm thinking about my age, however, in terms of TTC. My deadline for motherhood, in my head, was 32, because that's how old my mom was when I was born. I was 33 when Jo was born.

I am hoping to be 34 when I begin trying to conceive a biological child. Our plan is for me to go through testing with an RE this spring, so that I can begin inseminations over the summer (when I'll be off work and it will be easier to deal with the multiple monitoring appointments). In the fall, I'll just have to deal.

I am anxious -- not to say terrified -- about my fertility. My periods have always been regular and I have no reason to worry, but I have no reason not to, either. I'm also afraid that an RE might refuse to treat me "unless I lose weight," which is unlikely to happen. Will I truly be denied biological parenthood for such a silly reason? Plenty of large women get pregnant the old-fashioned way.

I don't necessarily expect my age to be a huge problem, but I'm not 22, either.

I don't mind sharing this plan here, in this space, because I don't mind being held accountable, or explaining if our plans change. This is where we write about TTC, after all, despite our current break to revel in parenthood.